No smoke without a fire
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: Ashe hates flying, she hates airships, she hates engines, and she hates the smug conceited pirates who cannot fix them properly. The Strahl is a ship that can never stay on the ground too long for fear of breaking down, much like its pilot.
1. It's relaxing

Something I wrote a while back and never posted, I can't remember why, I really like it :D

Hope you do too I guess.

* * *

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca sits sullenly in her seat and taps her heels together impatiently. They really should persist, wasting time on these idiotic hunts of Vaan's is pointless enough _without _the Strahl's engine kicking out every time they land. Only _Balthier_ would pilot an airship that has to constantly be in the air, never landing or lingering too long in one place for fear of breaking down, like a mechanical version of himself.

She is scowling more despondently than ever when Fran attempts to break the bad blood borne against her partner, whose presence is currently lacking in his gallant attempts to get the ship's engine functioning again.

"He is doing all he can, Princess," she announces calmly and Ashe looks up scathingly at the leggy Viera – Balthier's partner in crime and therefore _expected_ to defend him, "…you should not doubt his prowess with a toolset, we will be sky bound soon enough." She adds confidently and Ashe narrows her eyes with quiet disdain.

"I shall believe that when I see it." She replies under her breath and crosses her legs; which vexes Fran ever so slightly. Ashe was far too quick to judge her partner and rather deserves to be taken down a notch or two in some of her _high-held_ opinions.

It ought be acknowledged that the princess's current situation actually makes her no more superior than Balthier or herself…probably _lesser_ in fact as most people still consider her dead.

"Then go," she retorts offhandedly and invites a stern look from Basch for her brisk tone, "he is only in the engine room, go down the hatch at the end of that corridor and you can observe how hard he is working." Ashe tightens her lips as she deliberates on whether or not to act upon the offer, and goad the pirate into fixing this infernal contraption _faster_.

"I _still_ don't get why he wouldn't let me come and help…" Vaan adds dejectedly, and Penelo is quick with an answer.

"Because you 'helping' would just make things **worse,**" she teases, "I bet the _last_ thing Balthier needs is you getting in the way all the time." The boy scowls and raises the count of unhappy faces in the Strahl's cabin to two…when a third suddenly echoes up from the belly of the airship.

"Dam-the-bastard-piece-of-junk-to-bloody-buggering-hell!" An irate voice calls out in Balthier's unmistakable tone, while an awkward silence falls among the party at hearing him swear so coarsely and obliviously to whose ears it reaches.

"Maybe you should go and check on him," Ashe hints in a commanding tone, but Fran simply brushes her off.

"He knows what he is doing." She ascertains as the torrent of curses suddenly stops with a frustrated crash, and the ship falls eerily silent of Arcadian obscenities.

However Ashe is even less convinced by this and stands up from her seat to stomp down the corridor in investigation. 'No noise' was synonymous with 'no work' to her. Metal shoes clashing on the walkway, she makes up her mind to find out what this 'big problem' is, and then cast enough scorn on it (and him) to get this infernal ship _off the ground _and back to civilization.

"Perhaps he just needs more _encouragement._" she mutters sinisterly as Fran resigns to a shrug, allowing Ashe to clamber down the open hatch into the engine room of the Strahl to confront the cocky mechanic.

She lands clumsily at the foot of the ladder and looks about, but cannot see the pirate anywhere in sight and has to begin wandering around the dark in search of him.

"Son of a bitch Bangaa ripped me off…" she hears him cursing quietly under his breath as she gets nearer, and attempts to make him out in the poor light. He's stopped yelling at least, which is good for her hearing if nothing else.

"Balthier?" she calls out inquisitively, noticing with curiosity wisps of stormy gray smoke curling their way through the silent machinery.

"Who's that?_ Princess_?" He replies brightly as the fumes envelop her further and she's hit with a slightly acrid smell. Then stepping around an immobile cylinder she comes across Balthier's lean form leant back against a vent in the wall, blowing smoke into it as he brings a hand-rolled cigarette away from his lips.

"You're **smoking** down here!" she hisses venomously: she just _knew_ he wasn't working. He chuckles deprecatingly at her and flicks the end of the roll-up with his thumb, the ash falling to the floor as she glares nothing less than daggers at him.

"In case you didn't notice," he begins, but pauses to bring the cigarette casually back up to his lips, the end smoldering as he inhales and releases a fresh plume of curling smoke, "I am in a small spot of bother right now." He continues while gesturing towards an assortment of engine parts scattered across the floor, then heavily releases the breath and thickens the dizzying haze clouding the room.

"That explains very little." She remarks pretentiously while making a show of fanning away the smoke, it used to give her a nasty headache when men smoked their fat cigars in her resistance hideouts, and as a result she's developed a strong distaste for the whole pastime.

"_Well_, princess," he retorts firmly while raising his other hand to pick a shred of tobacco off the tip of his tongue, which she attempts not to watch him doing but somewhat fails at (and he notices her staring with concealed amusement), "I felt that nothing more could be achieved with this wretched thing until I'd calmed down…and what better way?" he suggests as he holds up the cigarette in question and puts it to his lips again. She coughs pointedly as a 'suggestion' but he offers no reaction whatsoever.

This is _his_ airship and engine room, so he may do _exactly_ what he likes in them.

"Then what, pray tell, is this dire problem, Balthier?" she demands irately, and he blows a perfectly formed smoke ring her way in reply, the blue-gray ringlet widening as it floats off and he makes another inside it with refined technique.

She briefly wonders how she managed to miss this habit for so long, because surely she would've smelt it a mile off if he was a smoker?

Balthier scoffs as he takes another gratifying drag on his cigarette, much to Ashe's dismay; considering he's making a point of sending all the exhaled fumes in her direction, having picked up on her disapproval of his habit and taken the decision to thoroughly wallow in it.

"It consists of a long stream of words you couldn't even begin to understand," he replies arrogantly as she wrinkles her nose, which is _almost_ adorable (even if it is worn with a disheartening scowl), "suffice to say _airship _and_ broken _cover the topic fairly well."

"Well _when_ can we expect to be moving on again?" she insists curtly, "perhaps if you…"

"We can move on again, Ashe," he states dominantly, and she is forced to submit to his overbearing tone, "When I have finished my cigarette and not a moment before."

She frowns and he scratches the back of his head thoughtfully; staring at the components on the floor and keeping the 'relaxant' in the corner of his mouth, then crouching down to peer at the parts more intensely. She becomes increasingly impatient when he remains like this for too long without making an effort to do _anything_ that looks even _remotely_ like repair.

"Just _get_ _on_ with it!" she snaps and he whips up his face to throw an accusing look her way.

"Ever so _pushy_ aren't you Princess?" he retorts sharply, catching her off guard. No one has been so bold as to say something rude like that to her before… and it briefly stuns her – as she's also unaccustomed to not getting her way.

"You…you do not speak to me like that!" she orders hollowly, unfortunately knowing that her words are completely meaningless against him as he raises an eyebrow at her and gathers up the engine pieces.

"To the contrary." He remarks smugly, taking a final drag from the stub and then trapping it between his teeth as he begins to slot the many removed parts back into place on the engine's starter motor, "I will speak to you however I please…speech _was_ still free in the skies last time I checked." He continues as he draws out a long cylindrical chamber with two electrodes pointing towards each other from either end, and then drawing that whimsical microphone she'd been 'introduced' to in Bujerbia from his belt he clicks the thing on and holds it up to his mouth.

"Fran, power to the glossar rings." He orders through half of his mouth, and all around them things suddenly crunch into life. However, they are noticeably struggling until he sucks in the last burning end of the cigarette and touches it against one of the electrodes, at which a bright spark leaps between them and then the engines rattle sporadically into motion.

The Strahl lurches unsteadily off the ground (under the expert pilotry of none other than _Vaan_) and Ashe very nearly loses her footing, only remaining upright by grabbing for the nearest suitable point of anchorage…which unfortunately happens to be a rather smug pirate.

Falling forwards she catches one of the ties on the back of his vest and causes it to fly undone, and he whirls around to firmly take hold of her arm and prop her back onto her feet with a self-endeared grin.

"Not everyone has good sky legs," he comments ostentatiously and she just glowers at him, "but perhaps you could _try _to keep your hands off me, Princess? I know it isn't easy…" at this she suddenly recoils, as if he could burn like the cigarette butt he now drops on the floor and crushes under his heel.

"I fell, that is all." She spits and storms back towards the hatch, but suddenly halts upon hearing him following her and pictures the view he would have of (or up) her skirt if she were to ascend before him.

"You first." She suddenly insists and he flashes her a crooked grin.

"You make very poor assumptions about me," he teases; in a much better mood since they got off the ground and now hovering a hundred feet up or so to await his 'command' in the cabin.

"I _am_ a man of _some _morals, you know?" he informs her dryly and slings himself up the first step of the ladder, then looking back for a moment tries yet again to get behind those eyes of hers.

_As usual_ he fails at it.

She really is totally _impenetrable_.

"No…I _don't _know." Ashe retorts coldly, and he shrugs as if he couldn't care less then climbs up and over her, disappearing through the hatch while she mumbles quietly to herself, "…but then again, there are many things I don't know anymore."

* * *

Yes I made Balthier a smoker :P god, he's such a rebel, right?

Reviews would be adored and I'll continue re-hashing the rest of it :D


	2. Dirty business

A/N. This goes out to Sylla, my chum from a great fanfiction forumn called Genesis Awards (link on my profile).

In response to comments about Ashe or anyone being out of character, I wrote this after writing a whole bunch of other Balthier/Ashe things, and was bored of them getting along so well all the time, and thought I'd bring out the nasty bits in them :D

* * *

Ashe buries her face in her hands and rubs her fingers against her temples: she hates flying, she hates airships, she hates engines and she hates the smug pirates who cannot fix them properly.

"Look Ashe," Penelo attempts weakly, inside cowering in fear of a royal (verbal) whipping alike to the one she unleashed on Balthier only the other day.

… All he did was make a sly remark about 'skirts and the insensibilities of wearing them at a _certain _length in cold weather' and she had torn him limb from metaphorical limb, and even refused to be in party with him for several hours.

"Last time Balthier said he only temporarily fixed the problem, which means if he's doing it properly this time then hopefully things won't…"

"Never put much trust in word of a man like him, Penelo." She interrupts, "...they will say most anything to fund their own cause." The young girl furrows her brow at the resilient princess, considering Fran's infrequently raised view that she _is_ a bit too hard on poor Balthier sometimes.

"Maybe you should have a little more faith in him." She remarks quietly, but luckily for her Ashe decides not to rip the naive girl to proverbial shreds, as Fran herself appears along the walkway rubbing her hands on an oily handkerchief.

"Ashe, he's called for you to help him in the engine room." She states neutrally, taking no notice of Vaan whining dejectedly.

"What? Why does Ashe get to go? Why can't…"

"He has asked for Ashe." She ascertains firmly, implying that there is no room to negotiate. Not even for the Princess in question.

"And if I were to decide that I do not want to assist him?" she poses to Fran uninterestedly, attempting to regain control of the situation after being summoned like she was no more than a novel lapdog. She does not answer to the beck and call of an officious sky pirate.

"He said you would say that," she replies knowingly, which infuriates Ashe even more, "and informed me that he will not accept anyone els. Only you. So we may well be here a while." She purses her lips and wonders what would call for Balthier to make such an odd demand, but reluctantly stands and goes to make her way down to the engine room; dropping through the hatch in order to tersely hurry this progress along as much as possible.

"Balthier?" she calls out to him and hears the clicking of a ratchet a little way away, then following the sound she discovers the Hume in question amongst a partially dismantled engine laid out across the floor, and _everything_ including him all the way up to his elbows (as he's pushed up his shirt sleeves) completely slick with pitch black oil. His thumb is pressed tightly over a valve and he's half-slid under part of one of the ship's main carburetors as he twists his neck to catch the princess's eye.

"Ahh, princess," he greets her, "I would recommend removing anything you don't want to get dirty: messy business engines don't you know?" she tightens her lips and leaves her clothing exactly as it is…he is not going to manipulate her _that_ easily. Upon glancing and noting the Princess's rainy demeanor Balthier shakes his head and tuts at himself, why he decided to engage in this little challenge with her in the first place is beyond him.

Boredom most likely, there was far too little treasure-hunting going on in this story as far as _he _was concerned.

"Fine, have it your way." He remarks, "Hand me that thing." He orders bluntly and points to a wrench laid near her feet.

"Get it yourself." She retorts, and he quirks an eyebrow at her with a suspicious grin.

"Are you sure about that?" he inquires devilishly as she remains as stoic as ever, implying that she doesn't _intend_ on being very helpful. "Very well," he sighs, "but don't say I didn't warn you." He leans heavily to the side and removes his finger from the end of the valve to reach, and a huge cloud of foul-smelling steam shoots out of it with a piercing whistle. It spits out dark wheezes of oil and filth as the pressure releases and Balthier grabs the wrench himself, safe from its dirtying range.

He eventually slips the tool over the angered tap and closes it off with a few quick turns. However, this is not before Ashe is streaked with green-black sludge almost completely from the waist down.

"You could've said something!!" she cries angrily while looking at her spattered body with disdain, he cracks an amused grin and tosses her a handkerchief.

"Then you wouldn't have learnt your lesson." He replies cockily and she squeezes her eyes shut in frustration.

"Why me?" she groans and attempts to clean the grime with very little avail, and he takes the cry as a direct question rather than a general exclamation.

"Because I thought that if you were watching me soldier on down here I mightn't have had to listen to your royal carping about it." He explains curtly, "seeing as you are so _very_ understanding of the delicacies of my profession." His sarcasm outrages her even more: especially as it is of _her_ opinion that the way he treats her is absolutely appalling, and swears to bring back _hanging_ when she is queen again.

"Now," he demands while stretching out a limber arm smeared in black oil towards her, "give me that wosit." He waves his fingers about almost comically and Ashe nearly has to hold back on a smile.

"What?" she questions aloofly and crosses her arms over her chest.

"That rusty thing by the thing." He retorts and slides further under the engine, sparing enough time to shoot a filthy glance at her – as if even a child could understand the instructions.

"I do not have an inkling as to what you are on about." She announces coolly and he groans with frustration.

"Look Ashe, I am making this as simple as possible for you…" he begins but she cuts him off abruptly,

"Perhaps if you used the item's actual _names_?" she hints while he does nothing but laugh at her.

"Then we would be at a total loss," he chuckles, "that is unless you know what a fast idle cam looks like, and with your _darling_ upbringing I sincerely doubt it." She scowls and scathingly wonders why in Ivalice she is still down here with this intolerable man.

"Then have Fran help you." She suggests acidly, "because I am leaving." He suddenly surprises her by half-jumping back out from under the machinery and calling out as she turns to leave.

"Wait!" he cries out on impulse and halts her, "don't go Ashe." He says _almost_ empathetically, and forces her into returning, if just so she can work out what in gods name goes on in his mind.

"Why do you want me?" she asks him again in a calm tone, and he points silently to an erratically shaped piece of metal within her arm's reach in answer. Begrudgingly she picks up the weighty object and steps forwards to hand it to him. His eyes glow with triumph at winning this victory from her and he begins affixing the cam back into the engine's choke device.

"Perhaps I enjoy your _stellar_ company," he comments dryly and she frowns in irritation.

"Can you not let the 'wit' cease for a single minute?" she demands obtusely as he heaves a sigh.

"You care for the truth, Princess? I warn you from personal experience that _honesty _is not always the best policy." He tells her forebodingly as she thinks upon his words, and then in turn seeing the agitation on her face Balthier decides to have a bit of fun with it.

"Perhaps, princess..." he starts thoughtfully, "I have demanded your presence because I am _madly in_ _love_ with you, and making an ardent attempt to get you alone so that I may woo fair lady's heart?" he suggests with a deadpan expression, and she shivers suddenly with dread, staring manically at the pirate's face in search of the telltale smirk which fails to appear.

He remains seemingly sincere as she opens her mouth to speak, but for the life of her cannot make a sound.

"You…?" she manages to stutter, and shifts slowly away from him in horror. Then in the blink of an eye the stony awkwardness is broken by rich, conceited laughter, and Balthier rolls back onto an elbow as he laughs himself sick.

"Just my little joke, Princess," he snickers and wishes to gods that the rest of the party could've seen her face: it was a _picture._ "You fool too easily." He chuckles and begins to replace all the removed parts of the engine he was only really toying with. Ashe's face transforms into an expression of pure rage and she turns rather amusingly red.

"You deceitful!!" she begins to scream when he suddenly whips out an arm and holds up a finger assertively to quiet her.

"Can't take a joke?" he taunts maliciously and attempts to click his fingers in some kind of summoning motion, but fails due to the oil coating them, "oh damn," he tries a few more times but his thumb and index finger just slip over each other silently. "No matter…just give me that nut, _that _one… there, that looks like… no _there_." He orders boisterously, and as Ashe gropes about on the oily floor she finally comes across a smallish hexagonal ring.

Shooting him a dirty look for patronizing her so much, she flicks it across the floor in the opposite direction to the pirate, as he slips the cover of the main carburetor back on, letting slip of a sigh at this petulant princess.

"That's your own precious time you are wasting." He remarks haughtily, but she's too proud to go and paw around for the lost joint again so he just lets off another sigh and wipes his hands on a handkerchief. Then snatches for one of his belts, which he took off to carry out the repairs, and pulls out a small hinged box from the attached pouch.

"Suit yourself" He shrugs and flicks open the lid to pull out a small leaf-like paper, then placing a small filter in the end and holding it steady as he rips dark shreds of tobacco from their compartment begins to roll a cigarette.

Ashe is the one to groan this time as he raises it to his lips to run his tongue along the edge of the paper and seal it, she had been rather hoping he was going to _attempt _to be considerate and not smoke around her after she spent most of the other day coughing.

"Could you not?" she suggests with scorn, but he returns her glance as if it held nothing at all.

"No." he quips, defiantly drawing a match from the case and striking it against the floor commences releasing those nauseating fumes she so detests. "And are you going to fetch that for me or not?" he inquires calmly as the first wave of the relaxing fumes hits him, and he smiles contentedly. Ashe, however, is _far _from content.

"No." she echoes contemptuously and stomps out of the engine room in disdain, but upon seeing the discarded nut rolled up near the foot of the ladder quickly stops to palm it and makes haste back into the cabin.

"Fran, do you know what he is _doing_ down there?" Ashe announces scathingly as she strides into the cockpit and sits down while poignantly coughing and clearing her throat, brimming with contempt for the looks Vaan, Penelo and Basch were giving the filth coating her lower half.

"Why wouldn't I?" she answers coolly, having picked up on the cigarette with her sensitive nose as soon as he lit the thing down in the pit of the airship: the only place he's _allowed_ to smoke as it gives her migraines if he's any closer, although she wouldn't tell Ashe that as it undermines her partner. "He is a free man, Ashe, and not even you can stop him doing _that_." The princess scowls and wonders once again how she fell into the company of these people.

"Well, uh, then… why aren't we moving?" Vaan pipes up, "Isn't it fixed?" Fran casts a glance over to Ashe who feels the nut burning guiltily in her palm. She holds it up and gets a suspicious look from Fran.

"Give him this, Vaan, then we can go." She announces and flicks the oily ring at the aspiring pirate, who scuttles off obediently as Ashe adds as a sarcastic afterthought, "_After he's finished his cigarette, of course._" Which invites yet another steely look from his icy partner in crime.

* * *

Blablabla I was a lazy updater blablabla I have an exam on friday blablabla I love you all really.


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